The Wildwood Sisters (23 page)

Renee folded her hands together as she stared down at the bitumen beneath her boots. ‘Yeah, I get it. You want me to forget Scarlet ever existed.' Her tone was filled with sarcasm. ‘Well it's not that fucking easy, Mick.'

Mick took her hands and unfolded them, placing them in his. He gave them a gentle squeeze as he met her tear-filled eyes. ‘No, Reni, I'm not saying that, and you know it, so stop being so difficult. I'm just begging you to let sleeping dogs lie. You're not experienced in criminology so you can't go starting your own murder investigation. And to be honest, the bastard that killed your sister is probably long gone. I don't believe for a second that any of the long-term locals had anything to do with her disappearance. And you've got to give Billy brownie points for trying to say hello—after you making it loud and clear you thought he was involved all those years ago.'

‘I s'pose I do, even though I don't want to.' Tears fell from Renee's cheeks. Slumping forward, she wrapped her arms around Mick's shoulders. ‘It just hurts so much to know that a killer is walking free, living their life, while Scarlet's life was stolen from her.'

Mick squeezed her back, wobbling a little on his crutches. ‘I know, but for your own sake, and the sake of your grandparents, I reckon it's best if you leave it to the coppers to find out who it was. I truly believe that one day they will eventually catch the bastard.'

‘Yeah, okay,' Renee mumbled into his shoulder, knowing full well it wasn't okay, and that she wasn't giving up, not until she unravelled the truth. She was positive Scarlet's spirit was still walking this earth for a reason, and as the saying went, only the truth was going to set them all free.

***

Dylan felt his mind begin to slowly refocus, his consciousness beginning to take over as Theresa counted him back to reality. His body still felt a little heavy in the reclined leather chair, the soft and calming office lighting aiding his relaxed state. He'd spent the last twenty-five minutes listening to Theresa with his eyes closed, his body relaxing more and more as she'd guided him with her calm and confident voice. Never one to believe in hypnotism before, he'd been amazed how quickly his mind had let go and turned inward while a mildly curious floating sensation had taken over his body. It had been an interesting, yet wonderful, experience. He drew in a deep breath, trying to will himself to full awareness.

‘Take your time, Dylan. Just come back up to sitting when you're ready.'

Blinking his heavy eyes, Dylan slowly brought the recliner back to upright, his body and mind feeling somewhat cleansed, sort of like he'd been covered in mud and Theresa had just hosed it all off.

The psychologist smiled warmly at him. ‘How do you feel, Dylan?'

He smiled. ‘Really good—I honestly didn't think I'd like it so much.'

‘Good, that's what I like to hear. How did you feel while you were going through the motions of it?'

‘It was weird. It was like I wasn't really sitting in the chair anymore, like I was floating in the air instead. And your voice gradually became more and more distant, to the point where I sort of forgot you were there.'

‘Uh-huh, and that's how it should feel. You were very easy to guide through the meditation—I really think you are going to benefit from the work we've done today.'

‘That's good to know, because I could definitely use the help. I was worried you wouldn't even be able to hypnotise me. I kept imagining it would be like all the stuff you see on telly—you know, where they tap someone on the head and they pass out or start acting like a chicken because they've been told to—but it wasn't anything like that.'

Theresa chuckled. ‘They make it all so theatrical on the television. No, it's more about you relaxing, your awareness of where you are, why you are here, and who is speaking to you, receding into the back of your mind until you're just content with effortlessly allowing my voice to act on you—which is when I really get the chance to reformat your mind, in a way, so you can think differently about certain situations and release the guilt and confusion you're experiencing about Renee and Shelley.'

‘Amazing stuff.' Dylan smiled. ‘And all without much effort from me—can't complain about that.'

‘That's it, Dylan. Too many people think they have to fight their thoughts, and control everything going on around them before they are happy or at peace, when really, it's all about how you think and feel in situations. A simple change of the way we view things can make all the difference and put you back on the right track.'

‘Sounds like good advice to me. Now I just have to put it to practice.'

‘I don't think you'll have any problems at all doing that. You're progressing really well with each session. And not having nightmares anymore, that's a huge thing. You should be very proud of yourself.'

‘Oh, thanks, that means a lot.' Dylan glanced over Theresa's shoulder at the clock on the wall. ‘We've gone ten minutes over today. Sorry about that.'

Theresa waved her hand in the air. ‘Not to worry, you needed it. I didn't want to stop the hypnosis when you were getting so much out of it.'

Theresa stood and so did Dylan as she opened her office door. ‘See you next week?'

‘Yup, with bells on,' Dylan said as he stepped through the door and headed towards the front desk, his eyes widening a little when he spotted Freaky Frank sitting in the waiting area. He quickly recomposed himself before Frank noticed his surprise.

‘Hey, Dylan,' Frank said, avoiding Dylan's eyes.

‘Hey, Frank,' Dylan replied, feeling equally uncomfortable. This wasn't really the place for small talk—not that he and Frank shared that at the best of times.

Theresa popped her head out. ‘Hello Frank, come on through.'

Dylan breathed a sigh of relief, not wanting to seem rude but not knowing what else to say. He wondered what struggles had brought him to Theresa—maybe the recent death of his father? Whatever it was, it took a lot of guts to make the decision to come here, and good on Frank for taking that step.

Pulling out of the rusty iron gates of Wildwood Acres, Renee skidded to avoid a massive roo as it bounded in front of her, the Land Cruiser coming to a halt as she missed it by mere inches.

‘Crazy bastards, anyone would think they had a death wish,' Mick muttered as he tried to get comfortable, without much success, his cast-enclosed leg at a very unnatural angle while he sat sideways on the seat, the seatbelt twisted around him in a way that made him look half strangled. As Mick muttered and groaned beside her, Renee pointed the vehicle towards the other side of town, struggling not to put the pedal to the metal, not that the old girl had much horse power these days. She had been looking forward to the Fuds and Studs ball all week and couldn't wait to get there.

She hoped the outfit she'd bought at the local western shop was suitable—a short denim skirt, figure-hugging diamanté-studded red top and Ariat Terrace Acres cowgirl boots. Although comfortable, it wasn't the attire she was accustomed to now, Melbourne not really suitable for such clothing. But her love of western wear had never subsided in all the years she was away, and she had to silently admit she felt very sexy in it. She hoped Dylan would feel a twang of regret when he saw her all dressed up.

Outside the four-wheel drive, the hypnotic calls of frogmouths merged with the chirruping of crickets, the nocturnal calls drawing her into the deep stillness of the night. Up above, the ever-changing evening sky was faultless—trillions of stars twinkling brightly amongst equally glowing dust clouds, the Milky Way clear as day against the velvet-black backdrop of night. Renee felt a strong sense of belonging as she admired the dazzling show, the country sky so much brighter than what she'd become accustomed to in the city. She was going to miss this when she went back to her life in Melbourne, immensely.

Winding her window down further, her skin prickled with goosebumps, and the scent of the country—pure clean untainted air—invigorated her. The temperature had dropped significantly with the setting of the sun, from a balmy thirty degrees to just sixteen, the chill just enough to make standing by a crackling fire even more enjoyable. There was nothing more mesmerising for her than watching the flames dance, flicker and twirl upon the crackling logs. It helped erase her mind of all her worries, and she had plenty of them right now. And the scent of a campfire—smouldering earth mixed with charring wood—was powerful enough to wrap itself around her like a warm and fuzzy embrace. It was certainly a perfect night for a country shindig and she couldn't wait to see what adventures were to be had. Maybe she might be lucky enough to meet a man.

Fifteen minutes later they were on the main road through town, following the long convoy of beat-up and hotted-up utes, four-wheel drives and cars towards the Opals Ridge Showgrounds, her mind's eye flashing back to the times she and Scarlet used to attend similar get-togethers here with her grandparents as youngsters. They would enjoy a hearty communal meal—usually a pig or lamb on the spit with all the yummy trimmings—followed by a few hours of frivolity with the other local kids, the majority of the children ending up sleeping on blankets in a dedicated section of the hall while Mum and Dad and Nan and Pa, along with the other adults, bootscooted the night away. It was good old-fashioned country entertainment—and a great night had by all.

Sadly, all that stopped after her parents died. Life seemed to lose its magical lustre for all of them that dramatic day, and then Scarlet's disappearance was the final straw. She wished her pa had agreed to come along tonight, but even after her constant nagging, he had declined, saying he was too old for it all now and he would rather hit the sack early.

The country tune playing on the radio was one of her all-time favourites. Renee turned it up, smiling as Mick sang the words way out of tune beside her. Garth Brooks' ‘Ain't Going Down 'Til The Sun Comes Up' reminded her of days gone by. It made her wonder if the Studs and Fuds ball was going to be anything like the B&S ball she and Scarlet had snuck off to a few months before Scarlet had gone missing, their antics that night enough to get them grounded for a year, if they'd been sprung.

By the end of the night they were both drunk as skunks from the potent punch someone had concocted in a few ten-gallon buckets—given that neither of them usually drank alcohol it had only taken a few glasses—and the pair of them were covered from head to toe in every shade of food dye known to mankind. Thank God they hadn't got themselves caught, making it back to the homestead just in time to sneak back through their bedroom windows before her pa got up at his usual time of five am.

The clothes they had been wearing that night, well, they kind of accidently-on-purpose went missing, the dye impossible to get out. Thinking back now, even though the evening had been a bit of a blur, she tried to piece together the fragments, wishing she could pick up a clue as to who Scarlet's mystery man was. But as usual, nothing clicked. Billy had hung around Scarlet like a bad smell all night, making sure no other man came near his prized girlfriend, so there was no way her secret lover would have come anywhere near them. That was, if he was even there in the first place.

Mick's throaty voice clutched her from the past and dragged her attention back to the present. ‘It's good your pa agreed to letting you off the leash tonight, Reni. I'll be bloody honest—I didn't know whether he would. Even though he understands you're old enough to take care of yourself now, he's really worried about you being back here. Can't blame the poor bugger really.'

She reached out and turned the stereo back down. ‘Yeah, I was a bit worried he was going to stress out too much about me coming along, but bless him for letting me. I think he knows I'm too old, and too stubborn, to be told what I can and can't do now anyway.'

‘Don't know about the too old bit, but the too stubborn bit, most definitely,' Mick said, chuckling.

‘Oi, you can't talk,' Renee said, lightheartedly digging Mick in the ribs.

It was a relief that Pa had allowed her to attend with Mick, but it had irritated her when he'd told her he'd also asked Dylan to keep an eye on her. She was twenty-six years old, for God's sake.

She didn't need to be babysat, especially by a man who would rather see the back of her—and at the moment, she'd rather see the back of him. After what had happened between them at the shack, and with how easily he had walked away, she didn't know how they were ever meant to be normal around each other again. She had bitten her tongue, to the point of almost drawing blood, when her pa had told her, understanding his desire to protect her. But honestly, amongst so many people, it was very unlikely that anything untoward would happen.

Pulling the old Land Cruiser into the showground, Renee headed towards the camping area, which was surrounded in tall silvery gum trees, headlights illuminating an endless array of parked vehicles and swags already rolled out on the ground. Her belly filled with butterflies as the thump-thump of the popular country band greeted them along with hordes of partygoers and the bright red-and-orange glow of a few campfires. She wondered what familiar faces she was going to run into tonight, and most importantly of all, how people would react to her being back.

‘Bloody hell, it's started already. Look at him!' Mick hollered in hysterics, pointing to where a bloke was standing on the roof of his ute, stark naked, his manhood flopping about for all to see as he danced like an elephant on rollerblades. His mates surrounded the ute, egging him on even more while a girl who appeared to be his girlfriend begged him to get down. ‘Thankfully all the fuds will be in the hall, and that's where I'll be heading too, while all you young hoodlums have fun out here.' He wriggled his eyebrows. ‘Segregation is essential at an event like this one, otherwise the young ones could find themselves getting in a fair bit of trouble from their elders.'